


flying the flag (all over the world)

by TheTeaIsAddictive



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Beauty and the Beast (2017), Eurovision Song Contest RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Eurovision Song Contest, F/M, Graham Norton is mentioned, also i mention this but it was originally written in 2014, as is Scooch, buckle up lads WE'RE GOING TO EUROVISION, but who knows maybe i'll continue it, certainly not me, confetti, i cannot fucking believe that is a pre-existing tag, maybe i'll make it relevant to 2018, who the fuck knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 11:52:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14617919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTeaIsAddictive/pseuds/TheTeaIsAddictive
Summary: "Representing Britain, Belle Lecteur! Now, you always have to wonder what exactly happens when a young girl with a bright future chooses to represent her country on Eurovision -- and luckily for us, we're about to find out. Oh, look, she's included bookshops and mugs in her flag montage! But the question is, will she put up a stronger performance than France just did, with Adam Darensbourg? Only time will tell. Well, ladies and gentlemen, our Eurovision entry -- Belle Lecteur!"aka the Eurovision AU nobody wanted or asked for, but it's the 2018 Final tomorrow night so I'm posting this anyway.





	flying the flag (all over the world)

The final notes of the song faded away reluctantly in the large arena. The group of people watching the technical rehearsal applauded wildly, one or two even standing up. Belle Lecteur was lowered to the ground from the flying harness attached to her waist, brushing stray bits of confetti away from her face, bright pink from the exertion required to complete the routine. 

"Brilliant!" cried Plumette, one of the backup dancers and a close friend of Belle's.

"Yeah, excellent work, Belle," Gaston smirked. Belle flushed slightly, although it would be difficult to tell if you weren't looking closely, given how red her face was already. "We're gonna need a really matte foundation tomorrow, if you're not going to look like a tomato at the end of the number."

"Yeah," Belle said shortly. "I'll talk to the makeup artist about it. How did it look apart from that?"

"Good," Gaston said after a slight pause. 

"Good?"

"The smoke was half a bar late. And you need to control your facial movements more; everybody could tell when a light was shining in your face. I'll give you a full list of feedback tonight."

"You're the boss," she sighed. "What time is dress rehearsal?"

"Six p.m. tomorrow," Gaston said. "Don't be late, or it won't matter that Britain goes through by default." He tugged lightly on the end of Belle's ponytail, and she resisted the urge to slap him.

"You're the creative director, not the adjudicator," she snapped. 

"And if I wasn't either, you'd be going on a date with me tonight," he said, running his eyes lightly up and down Belle's shorts and vest top, now clinging to her body with sweat. "But as it is, if anything to do with the performers isn't just the way management likes it, it's my neck it ends up falling on. So don't. Be. Late." He pinched her cheek just hard enough to earn a gasp from Belle, and moved away, talking into his earpiece rapidly. 

"I hate him I hate him I  _ hate _ him," Belle whispered venomously to Plumette, as they made way for the next performer. "He's so slimy, and smarmy, and - and-" Belle paused, pure rage displayed on her face.

"Breaking about five hundred workplace protocols by propositioning you like that," Plumette supplied helpfully. 

"Yes!" Belle said. "Ugh, but the thing is, when he's not being disgusting and creepy he's a  _ really _ good director. All the feedback itself was entirely professional. It's just the  _ way _ he delivers it." She wiped some of the sweat away from her brow, and gulped down some water. 

"I don't know why he's so uptight about it," Plumette said. "It's not like Britain ever wins anyway."

"Hey!" Belle cried, only half joking as she shoved Plumette across the stage. 

"Am I wrong?" Plumette asked, letting her long blonde hair fall out her ponytail and swish around her face.

"No, but this is definitely the craziest thing we've done since 2007." Belle shuddered. "Never forget Scooch."

"Come on, Belle," Plumette said, half-dragging her off the stage, "the next performer's about to begin, we need to get off."

"Let's watch," Belle suggested, and the two women sauntered into the row of seats. "Do you know anything about this guy?" Belle asked as a tall man in sweatpants, baseball cap and a black t-shirt walked towards the back of the stage. 

"He's the France representative," Plumette said. "I think his name's Adam."

"Doesn't sound very French," Belle said, watching the young man fiddle with his microphone absently as a small fat man with a clipboard yelled for quiet in the audience.

"He's not," Plumette said. "Well, I mean, he's lived there for years, but I think he grew up in the States or the UK since his first language is English."

"How do you know this much about him?" Belle asked. "Have you been stalking him?

"No!" Plumette cried defensively. "Just . . . doing a little research on the competition."

"Sure," Belle smirked. 

"Quiet, please!" the man with the clipboard yelled again. Belle and Babette settled down, and the lights soon flared up as the French performer began his rehearsal.

Belle had to admit, this guy was good. His voice was sweet and deep, sort of mellow, but as Graham Norton so quickly reminded Britain in 2015, Eurovision is not a singing competition. He seemed full of a sort of kinetic energy, always doing something on the stage; surprising, given he was singing a ballad. His feet never seemed to stand still, one foot always tapping away at the beat, and he switched the hand holding his microphone every few lines. It should have been distracting, but every move he made seemed calculated to bring your attention to a particular song lyric. Belle found herself looking at his face after about a minute, wondering if he was as expressive there as he was with the rest of his body. 

To her surprise, his face seemed closed off, a shut book. His mouth smiled around the words, but no emotion he'd sung about had ever reached his eyes. Belle kept staring at him, trying to see if anything could reach his face. It astounded her how a serious entry for Eurovision had gotten so far without emoting once. As the bridge started to play, and the man walked towards a mike stand rising up from beneath the stage, Belle shifted forwards in her seat. 

Suddenly the lights flashed brightly as the music changed key, and she was hit in the face by a baseball cap that seemed to appear from nowhere. Wincing slightly from the pain, Belle yanked it down from her face, only to see bright blue eyes and a long mane of red hair glance over in her direction, before continuing his performance.

"As far as dramatic costume changes go, that one's pretty significant," she whispered to Plumette, who giggled. Adam had stopped hopping around, and the smoke swirling around his lower legs meant his perpetually tapping foot was out of sight. He let the last note rip out, impressively strong, and confetti erupted from small cannons above him.

Belle clapped along with the rest of the audience, enthusiastic despite the annoyance of getting hit in the face with a baseball cap. After all, his performance had been excellent. The short man waving the clipboard trotted up to him, but Adam waved him aside and jogged over to the very edge of the stage, thumping down right in front of where Belle was seated.

"Sorry about my hat," he said, face flushed with exertion. "I wasn't really looking where I was chucking it, I didn't mean to hit you in the face."

"That's alright," Belle said, handing it back to him. "Just watch where you're throwing it on the actual night, okay?" She laughed, and Adam grinned at her.

"I think it's meant to be a top hat on the night," he smiled. "There's a magic theme running throughout."

"Yeah, well, when you have lines like, 'Your eyes are so deep/I could pull rabbits out them/Your hair is as silk as a top hat, baby', I think you'd need a bit of a visual aid."

"You speak French?" His eyebrows raised.

"A little," Belle shrugged. "Songs are harder to translate than speech, but the tempo of yours is pretty slow, so I picked up a few lines here and there."

"If you're  _ quite _ finished, Mr Darensbourg, we need to run over your feedback!" the short director shouted from across the room, startling both Belle and Adam. 

"I'd better go," he said, and almost before she could blink Adam was up on his feet.

"Do you want to meet up again some time? I'm busy tomorrow at six, but basically free the rest of the day," Belle said, trying to ignore the bees nest of nervousness in her stomach. She hadn't asked many guys out before. she just hoped he'd say yes.

"Sure," Adam said, smiling wide. "Oh, wait, I just realised - I don't know your name."

"Belle Lecteur," she said. "I'm representing Britain."

"So I guess we're competition?"

"Looks like it," Belle said, raising one eyebrow. Adam smiled rakishly, and Belle noticed that when he smiled deep enough, dimples appeared at the corners of his mouth. It was  _ insanely _ cute.

"I look forward to seeing you again," Adam said, walking away backwards, the smile still plastered on his face.

"You too!" Belle called out. She settled back into her seat, smiling slightly.

"Ahem!"

Belle jumped, her hair spinning round so fast it hit her in the face, only to see a smirking, smug Plumette.

"Don't you dare," Belle said.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Plumette said. "Not with you and Mr Lovebird over there hitting it off so well."

"I hate you," Belle muttered.

"Why? I've just got a feeling  _ Love Is On the Radio." _

"Resa," Belle said.

"Hey, maybe both of you could win Eurovision this year thanks to  _ The Power of Love _ ."

"This isn't a good time for -"

"Or maybe you just need to say to him that  _ You Belong With Me _ ."

"I'm leaving now!" Belle said, standing up in her chair. 

"Come on, it's Eurovision, it's hardly going to be a  _ Bad Romance _ ."

"Plumette, seriously."

"This could be a  _ Love Story _ !"

"Or the story of how you and I got  _ Bad Blood _ ," Belle retaliated.

"Come on,  _ Don't Stop Believin' _ in our friendship." Plumette pulled a face so earnest, but melodramatic, that Belle immediately started to giggle, against her better judgement.

"I do still need a  _ Dancing Queen _ ." 

The two girls stood up, and started walking back to the small rehearsal area.

"But seriously, Belle, with Gaston around you're gonna have to  _ Fight for This Love _ ."

"Plumette."

"Otherwise I might end up with  _ Teardrops on My Guitar _ ."

" _ Plumette _ ."

"You could say that  _ Everything Has Changed _ between you and Adam now."

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

"So is there a  _ Blank Space _ in your journal to write about this guy in tonight?"

"PLUMETTE!"

"This could be  _ The Start of Something New _ for you!"

"I'm not listening!"

"We're  _ Breaking Free _ !"

"I'm leaving now!"

**Author's Note:**

> also known as the Eurovision AU nobody wanted or asked for. 
> 
> lmfaO so i wrote this back in 2014 or something and i only just now realised that i never put it up on ao3. so, uh, here you go. in the spirit of Eurovision! also like 90% of those song references are from 2014 when it was written but i could not be bothered changing them, so.
> 
> it was on ff.net under ‘When the Music Fades’ but that is a shitty title so here, have my favourite Britain Eurovision entry ever, ‘flying the flag’ by scooch. Plumette was previously down as Resa, a fleshed-out version of a triplet from Behind A Fair Façade, but I changed that because I wasn’t sure people would know who she was.
> 
> later!


End file.
